


Lift and Drag

by Lysical



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Wings, An Undisclosed Amount of Fluff, Brothers, Family Feels, Gen, Jason Todd is Robin, Platonic and Romantic Soul Bonds, soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13215687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysical/pseuds/Lysical
Summary: Dick had long resigned himself to grudging acceptance of his wings. Watching Jason come into his own leads him to reassess a few things.Or, How Dick Grayson Gained A Brother And Learned To Love His Wings





	Lift and Drag

**Author's Note:**

> I've had part of this sitting around for months, the rest I scrambled together so I could end 2017 in solidarity with Wisp, so that I too could finish the year on a fic that I can't quite believe I ever wrote.

Dick put a hand up to shield his eyes, squinting up at the highest branches of the tallest Oak tree on the property. “Did you really get stuck up the tree?”

Up in the highest branches was a platform, a perch that had existed even before Dick had come to live at the manor. Jason sat there, fingers curled tight around the wooden edges. His wings ruffled up behind him at Dick’s words, downy grey feathers mussed from the wind and whatever else Jason had got up to that day.

“I’m not stuck!” Despite his insistence, Jason’s wings quivered behind him as the wind made the perch sway a bit. “I can climb down.”

“Uh-huh.” Dick tucked his own wings in close and started climbing the tree. He’d loved climbing things since he was smaller than Jason was now, and there were times that it was more efficient than expending the energy getting into the air and flying, and Dick had long practice climbing this particular tree. The platform was sturdy enough to hold both of them, but that didn’t stop Jason from latching onto his shoulders and letting Dick tug him close the second he made it up beside him. Jason loved climbing too, but he often forgot about what came after he’d scaled whatever impressively tall structure he’d picked out. Dick never said anything, because he’d been the same way. Most kids were; maybe it was something about having wings and not remembering they were too young to use them yet. `

“Are we flying down?” Jason asked, watching as Dick relaxed his wings, letting them spread out and catch the wind.

Dick hummed, distracted by the mess that Jason had made of his own. He started smoothing out ruffled feathers, ignoring Jason’s irritated huff. “What have you done to your wings, Jay?”

“They’re fine,” Jason replied, swatting at his hands. “Even Alfred says it doesn’t matter if they’re messy.”

It didn’t, really. Jason’s wings were still entirely covered in down feathers, without even a hint of that changing any time soon. At twelve, Jason was a bit too young to be worrying about it (even though he, like most his age, worried anyway). There was no functional reason for Dick to obsess over the neatness of down feathers but he did it anyway. Jason could use the affection and it was easier to give in than let it agitate him.  

“Hold on,” Dick said, once Jason’s wings were as good as they were going to get. Jason was light enough to barely weigh him down in flight, which made showing off for him easy—much to Bruce’s chagrin whenever Dick went into a high speed dive while carrying the boy. He waited until Jason tightened his arms around his neck before taking off from the platform, taking them up higher and higher, away from the tree and into the open air. Once he was high enough and Jason was secure he circled a bit and then began to stoop into a dive, grinning at Jason’s wild laughter as the ground rushed up to meet them.

He pulled up at the last minute and went back to circling, stretching his wings out and flaring them, turning into and catching the blowing wind to slow down enough to safely land.

Jason wriggled impatiently. “Just let me jump, we’re low enough!”

“And let you beat me back to the manor?” Dick asked, snorting. “Nah. You can just suffer the boring parts of flying, too.”

***

Dick was twelve when he started fledging.

It was early; he’d been the first in his class to start, although by the time he’d finished many more had joined him. It should have been an exciting day, but to him it was just another reminder that his parents were gone, unable to share it with him, and the feathers that were growing in were not what he’d expected.

“They’re not bright at all,” he said to Bruce, with a mix of bitter disappointment, excitement and guilt. His feathers were coming in dark and barred, and they weren’t anything like his mother’s bright and attractive hues or even his father’s more toned down blues and yellows. “I thought I would be like them.”

“That doesn’t always happen,” Bruce replied. His own solid black wings ruffled behind him. Dick had seen enough portraits of Thomas and Martha Wayne to know that their son’s wings would’ve been a surprise to them, too. “Your probably resemble a grandparent, or perhaps someone even further back.”

Dick huffed, folding his arms over his chest and stretching out his itchy wings. “What good does that do?”  

“You might get more color when the rest come in,” Bruce said. “Don’t worry about it so much, Dick.”

He hadn’t been worrying, exactly. He’d just had to readjust his worldview a little.

“You know what this means, right?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve been training for ages,” Dick said. “You promised that once I fledged I could join you.”

“I did.” Bruce eyed his wings, one side of his mouth quirking in a smirk. “But you have exactly two feathers right now. We’ll talk once you _finish_  fledging.”

“You’re such a Scrooge,” Dick muttered.

***

Injuries were common in their line of work, but wing injuries, particularly those that grounded them for any length of time, were rare. There was some instinctive part of the hind-brain that made protecting their wings a priority, even for those who couldn’t fly. The uniforms that Bruce spent so much time and money developing were reinforced enough to protect the relatively delicate wing bones. The feathers were more exposed to danger.

“You sure got your wings clipped,” Dick said cheerfully, from his place straddling one of the chairs in the medbay.

Bruce gave him a sour look, shoulders twitching minutely as Alfred neatly trimmed back the ruined primary feathers on Bruce’s left wing. Even with all the precautions they took in the field, feathers weren’t exactly flame resistant. He was lucky it hadn’t been worse. As it was, Bruce was grounded until the feathers regrew. “I’m working on better synthetic and prosthetic solutions.”

Jason rolled the computer chair over, wings fluttering behind him. “That means that soon Bruce is gonna replace his real wings with bat ones to fit his theme.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Jason.”

“What?” Jason asked, standing up on the arms of the chair, wings thrown out for extra balance. “I’ve seen the plans.”

“There are no plans for bat wings,” Bruce said. “Get down from that chair before you fall.”

“I’m fine.” Jason jumped off the chair, sending it skittering off across the cave, where it crashed into the computer terminal with a bang. “Oops.”

“Are you going to wait for your molt?” Dick asked, as Bruce stood up and flexed his left wing out with a grimace. Dick’s fingers twitched at the mess of feathers left behind from Batman’s close brush with a burning building.

“I might pluck them,” Bruce replied, folding his wings back. He gave Jason a sharp look as the boy crept closer. “That’s not an invitation, Jason.”

Jason’s wings flared in offense. “I wasn’t gonna!”

Dick snorted. “Yeah, he wouldn’t. _I_  would.”

“Upstairs with the lot of you,” Alfred said, turning Jason around by the shoulders and giving him a small nudge towards the staircase. “It’s going to be a very cold night and this cave is far too draughty.”

Once Alfred and Jason were gone, Dick turned back to Bruce.

“Bat wings, huh?”

Bruce sighed. “No such plans exist.”

Dick grinned. “Not yet, maybe.”

***

His emerging feathers made Dick’s wings itch, and the rapid growth of the limbs made them ache. Fledging was, on the whole, a miserable experience.

“I’m dying.” Dick lay spread out on top of one of the chandeliers in the foyer, wings hanging down limp over the edges. It was the only remotely comfortable place he’d found and not even Alfred’s disapproval, seen and felt, could get him down.

Bruce stood below, staring up at him with an exasperated expression. “You’re not dying. This is a rite of passage.”

“Whoever invented it should be shot.” Dick shifted his right wing higher, scratching it against the gold chains that kept the chandelier suspended from the ceiling. “I’m not coming down.”

“We have perches,” Bruce replied. “Designed for this purpose. The chandelier is decorative.”

“I’m comfortable here.” Dick kicked out, sending the chandelier swaying back and forth. It was soothing. It was the only place he could sleep. He was never leaving.

“The chandelier is worth two hundred thousand dollars.”

“And my comfort is priceless. What’s your point?”

Bruce chuckled. “Fine, but you answer to Alfred if you break it.”

He didn’t break the chandelier.

Not that one, anyway.

***

It was a fine day in New York, even if the chill on the air made Dick reconsider the idea of a stroll through the park. Kory’s hand was warm in his and heads turned as she walked by. He was long used to the stares she drew—he could spend hours staring at her himself—and Kory herself barely seemed to notice. It was not her skin or eye color that drew the attention, not at first, but the blindingly bright red wings, shimmering and iridescent, ending in red and orange feathers that moved like fire.

Ornamental to the extreme, Dick wasn’t surprised that they provided no practical use for flight. That was just the way those things went. Kory, however, came from a species that had evolved past the need for even wings to soar through the air. She had the best of both worlds and could fly with startling ease.

The warmth of her hand paled in comparison to the link between their minds. Dick glanced over, smiling weakly at her curious look. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

“You’re always thinking,” Kory replied, squeezing his hand. “Did something happen back home?”

“I might need to cover for Bruce.” Dick frowned. “I know Donna can run the team without me for a while. I’m the only one who can take over in Gotham.”

Kory smiled. “Family is important. Do you want me to come keep you company? I know you and your father are doing better, but you look like you’re about to walk to execution.”

“I haven’t stayed at the manor for more than a day or two since I left for college.” Bruce had yet to corner him for an argument about dropping out, though Dick knew it was coming and soon. Jason was a fantastic distraction and perfectly willing to let Dick fling him at Bruce in an effort to delay the inevitable. He couldn’t remember why he’d ever been reluctant to have a little brother. “But I know you have your own things to take care of up here—your modeling is just taking off, and God knows Bruce isn’t the easiest guy to get along with.”

Dick knew a lecture was coming about that too, but he was infinitely more prepared to laugh in Bruce’s face over concern about his relationship with Kory than he was about his education and future career. He knew where he stood with Kory, at least.

“If you need me, call.” Kory leaned over, kissing his cheek. “Don’t try to suffer in silence or martyr yourself, please.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest and Dick pulled Kory against his side. “I promise. The second I start contemplating flinging myself out the window, I’ll call you.”

***

The thing Dick most remembered about the night his parents fell was the sudden silence in his soul, like a connection had been wrenched away and no matter how hard he reached he couldn’t get it back, couldn’t feel them anymore, could only try to staunch the gaping wound left behind. He’d not lived a moment of his life until that point without them there, unnoticed until he felt the absence in his head where there had only been warmth and reassurance before.

It had taken a long time to get used to it. For a while, Dick wondered if he’d go mad instead, from the ringing silence.

Eventually, Bruce and Alfred were there, and it had been such a relief he cried for hours after he had the connections, while Bruce fretted (Dick could feel the worry, the concern, all the things that he’d been wondering about because Bruce was about as expressive as a brick wall on a good day) and Alfred sat beside him, rubbing his back between his wings and whispering reassurances. Alfred had experience in such things, from Bruce, and maybe even before. Bruce had been flying blind, and eventually Dick had started laughing because he’d not really grasped how hilarious Bruce was until he’d felt him there, warm and worried, in his mind.

Bruce had been better with Jason, thankfully.

Jason had taken longer to bond to them, but eventually Dick had gotten the call to come back to the manor. His own mind was full of connections at that point, the Titans and Kory ( _Kory_ ) and he wasn’t quite as afraid of losing them all again as he used to be, although the nightmares still happened.

Jason had been just as lonely as Dick had once been; he just hid it better and had survived much longer. It was impressive, but sad. The link had snapped into place just as easily as any Dick had made in the past, and Jason had wandered around in something like shock for a long while afterward, after over a year alone with no connections.

“Are you going to make him Robin?” Dick asked, with much less ire than he had the first time, when he’d first discovered that Bruce had taken another child in.

Bruce stared down at Jason, who’d finally fallen asleep in a makeshift nest of blankets and pillows on the carpeted floor. They were in the sunken area of the den the family usually spent the most time in, during winter. It was one of the warmest areas of the manor, and soothing to more primal instincts. Bruce disapproved of Dick calling it a giant nest but, well, it was a giant nest. “He’s not even fledged yet, Dick.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, stretching his wings out behind him. “Where have I heard that one before?”

***

“I’ve been putting off the trip for a while,” Bruce said, with a side-eyed glance towards Jason, who was attempting to help Alfred get Bruce’s luggage down to the foyer. His little wings were beating wildly as he pulled the largest and heaviest of the suitcases out into the hall, while Alfred took a smaller one with a shake of his head, grey speckled wings held folded behind him in dignity, as always.

Dick sat on Bruce’s bed, watching as Bruce slowly put on all the layers that rich business people felt was necessary in a corporate environment. Endlessly frustrating for wings and flying, but most of them couldn’t, so the rest of them had to suffer. Bruce had to suffer more, pretending as he did that his own wings were the useless kind; pure black wings were generally considered attractive, and bred for it. Just another way that Bruce maintained his cover of useless playboy layabout. “You’re taking Alfred.”

“I thought you said you could handle Jason?” Bruce asked, and his face was straight but he felt like he was laughing.

Dick glared back at him. “I can, we’ll be fine. I didn’t think you would want to, though.”

“I trust you,” Bruce said. “With all of it—and Alfred will be spending most of the trip in England, on a long overdue and sorely needed vacation.” Then he made a face and gave Dick a look that made his back straighten. “Please remember you’re in charge of Jason and not in cahoots with him. I will know if you both get up to things you shouldn’t.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have Clark listening in, do you?”

“Would I do that?” Bruce asked, with just a hint of a smile.

“You do remember that I’m an adult, right?”

“Dick, in this country we don’t trust our nineteen year olds to drink,” Bruce replied. “Your status as an adult is highly debatable. That reminds me; we’ll talk about college when I get back.”

He didn’t bother disguising his grimace—Bruce would have felt his true reaction anyway. “Can’t wait.”

***

The Robin costume was in his mother’s colors. Not anywhere near as beautiful as he remembered her wings being, but the reminder had been enough. The Nightwing costume favored his father’s. The yellow was maybe more bright than his father’s wings had been, and Dick had added some lighter, brighter blue to it, but he felt the extra brightness was needed.

Dick had always liked bright things. Sometimes he wondered if someone up there was laughing at him, to give him such dull, practical wings, nothing at all what he’d expected, or wanted.

By the time he was fully fledged, his wings had grown into their final size and shape—a bit over-sized for his still growing body, but that just made learning to fly easier, for a time.

Bruce had been pleased with the shape of them.

“Those are wings made for speed,” he said, watching as Dick spread them out and turned his head to stare at them. They were still novel to look at, even if Dick wasn’t completely impressed with them. “You’ll be a good flyer.”

Dick huffed. “Better than you?”

Bruce laughed. “Easily.”

It had taken Dick a while to understand. He’d never been interested in highly technical wing function. They liked those types for the military, for specialized roles, for athletes, sometimes, but not the fun kind. His mother had been amazing in the air and all she could do was glide. She could maneuver better than any of those specialized wings, and her wings were pretty. His father could fly, but it made him no better at what they did than Dick’s mother.

He’d wanted wings like hers.

Others liked his wings, had found him more attractive because of them. Not because they were beautiful, although the barred patterning on the underside was at least not boring, but because it was obvious from the shape of them what they were made for.

They were the high speed wings of a falcon. That Dick could fly—and fly well—was telegraphed all over them.

***

Bruce may have trusted Dick with Gotham and Jason, but he also considered the length of patrol too long for Jason to be left alone, unsupervised, in the manor. Even if Jason would supposedly be sleeping.

Enter Babs.

Jason wasn’t thrilled with the idea. He puffed his cheeks out like a chipmunk and scowled fiercely as Babs left her things in the downstairs den. “I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Course not,” Dick said, ruffling his hair. “She’s watching me. Making sure I don’t screw up on patrol, right Babs?”

Babs rolled her eyes. “I’m winding down on the active vigilantism, but that doesn’t mean I can’t critique your performance and report back to the Boss.”

Dick grinned down at his little brother. “See?”

Eyes narrowed, Jason was clearly not mollified, and spent the entire evening before Dick’s first patrol giving the stranger in their territory a wide berth and finding the highest vantage point to climb up and monitor her from a distance, while his downy wings stayed puffed up in agitation. No matter what Dick tried, he could not convince him to come down and say hello.

“Jay, you can’t sleep up there.” Somewhere, Bruce was laughing and didn’t know why, because Dick was pretty sure this exact scenario had played out between them at least a dozen times when Dick had been a similar age. “Babs is a friend, come on.”

“She’s your friend,” Jason replied, peeking over the edge of one of the perches that were tucked away in various rooms on the first floor of the manor. Most of the better ones were up higher, on the other floors, but this one gave him an excellent vantage point through to the den, and Jason was still too young to reach any of the higher ones anyway. “She doesn’t like me.”

“That’s not true, you’ve barely met.” Dick was honestly a little surprised that was the case, especially since Bruce had asked Babs to come watch Jason while he was gone. It was possible that it had just slipped his mind that Babs and Jason didn’t have a bond to fall back on. Most nestlings didn’t quite default to aggression against strangers the way Jason did.

Eventually, Dick managed to coax Jason up to his bedroom to get ready to sleep, but he strongly suspected that when he got back from patrol he’d find the kid not in his bed, but up on the high platform on the other side of the room, in the pile of old blankets and pillows that Jason tended to sleep in when he felt insecure or had nightmares.

“We’ll be fine,” Babs said, following him as far as the grandfather clock in the study when it was time for patrol. “He’s done this every time we’ve met so far. He’ll calm down by tomorrow and instead of frosty silence I’ll have a tiny, suspicious little shadow.”

“I still think it’s weird,” Dick muttered.

Babs laughed, shaking her head and stretching out the bright yellow wings that Dick had frankly envied for years. “It’s not. I’m much less active these days, you know that. I don’t have much reason to come by anymore.”

Shrugging, Dick turned and started down to the Cave to suit up for patrol. Maybe it was because of how he’d been raised, but Dick didn’t like it when his bonds weren’t shared amongst his family. It felt…wrong, that someone so trusted wouldn’t be bonded with the newest member of Dick’s family, the closest set of bonds he had. He knew it was different for others, but it was still something he struggled with.

Something he expected Jason was going to struggle with. It was instinctive to keep those without bonds at arm’s length, to treat them with suspicion.

***

“Are you seriously going to make a big deal out of this?”

Bruce gave him a sharp look and kept pacing, giving off so much nervous energy that Dick could feel himself tense up in response—and that wasn’t even taking into account the mess of turmoil he felt through their bond.

“Bruce, come on, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve been injured.” He flexed his wings on reflex, grimacing at the pull in his shoulder. There was a clean line of Alfred’s stitches, soon to become new scars for his collection, accompanied by a deep ache only made worse by the time spent flying so he could land safely on the ground after the Joker had shot him off a rooftop.

“You got lucky.” Bruce scrubbed a hand over his face. Dick doubted he’d slept even a little since Dick back to the Cave. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Leaning forward at Alfred’s gentle nudge, Dick frowned and kept his gaze fixed on Bruce as he continued his circuitous pacing. “I know you aren’t trying to imply I’m rusty—I’ve been working solo and I have the Titans.”

Indistinct muttering was his response. Bruce finally stopped pacing, giving Dick a hard look. “We’ll talk later.”

Dick didn’t get a chance to respond. Bruce swept from the room without another word or look in his direction, leaving him in flummoxed silence.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked Alfred, remaining carefully still as the last of the dressing was placed over his wound.

“I believe that much as distance makes the heart grow fonder, Master Bruce’s worry has grown now that you and he are working together less frequently.” Alfred’s expression gave nothing away and their bond remained mild and calm, as it ever did. Dick knew that should he ever feel Alfred express unconcealed emotion across their mental link, that would be the moment things had truly had gone wrong.

“I swear, I’m never going to understand him.”

***

Loud footsteps and the beating of little wings gave Dick plenty of warning before a small body hit the back of his chair. One foot pressed firmly on the ground was enough to stop it rolling forwards from the impact. His wings twitched from the proximity of the boy now hanging over the back.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” Dick asked, a glance over his shoulder catching one of Jason’s hands reaching over. “Careful.”

“I know.” Jason rolled his eyes, hoisting himself up and over the back of the chair to wedge himself down between Dick’s back and the chair. Dick had to steady the chair and Jason both to keep them from toppling over. “I always ask before I touch.”

“Yeah, you’re good, I know. Just habit.” Others weren’t so conscientious. “Did you need something, or did you come all the way down here to preen my wings?”

Unlikely but not unwelcome. Jason was surprisingly deft at it and had better manner than others years older.

Jason leaned forward, one hand dropping onto Dick’s right shoulder and the other reaching right around to wave something in front of his face. Dick reached up to tug the hand back a bit. Jason settled more solidly against his back, between his wings, and his chin dropped on top of Dick’s head.

Clutched in his hand was a small, vaned feather.

“Is that yours?” Dick asked, thrown.

“’Course it is,” Jason muttered, with a small scoff. “What else would it be?”

“You’re fledging.” He traced the length of the feather with one finger, grinning. Then, as a thought occurred to him: “Jay, you’re fledging and you _plucked it_?”

“I don’t want it!” As if to prove the point Jason let the feather go and his hand retreated. The next second the chair jolted as he vaulted off the back of it. “It’s red.”

Dick picked the feather up from his lap and turned around to meet his little brother’s scowling gaze. He raised an eyebrow, holding the feather up. “You don’t like red now?”

That got him a sour look and rolled eyes. “If my feathers are colorful, that means I won’t be able to fly!”

Oh. _Oh_.

“It’s not as simple as that.” Dick took another look at the feather, turning it over in his hand. “It’s pretty muted, really—and even if you can’t fly, it’s not the end of the world.”

“Bruce won’t let me be Robin if I can’t fly.” Jason gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You know he won’t.”

Flight had never been a stipulation but they needed all the advantages they could get in their line of work.

“My mom couldn’t fly,” Dick said, holding out the feather, fairly sure that in a few hours once Jason got over his worries he’d probably regret yanking it out on impulse. “She was still better than nearly anyone at what she did—even my dad, who could fly.”

“Neither of my parents could fly,” Jason said, looking away. He didn’t say anything else about them, but Dick didn’t expect him to; he already knew enough, and the roiling emotions were easily felt through their bond, just under the surface. Jason was too young to regulate what he telegraphed very well.

Dick flared his wings out with a shrug. “Neither of my parents had wings like this, either. Don’t worry about it, Jason. You have a lot of time—and some very long, itchy months—ahead of you first.”

And Dick would bet a small fortune Jason would have no problem with flight.

The shape of their wings was just another thing they had in common.

***

The first time Dick had ever been up on the trapeze by himself, he’d fallen. He barely remembered it and there had been a net and his father ready to catch him. Falling hadn’t been a big deal back then. His parents fell, rarely, which could make landing awkward due to lack of time and space,  considering everything about their performances were designed to enhance the danger to the point that wings weren’t quite the safety net they usually were.

Engineering the deaths of two trapeze artists was simple if you sabotaged both the ropes and their wings. Part of the show was keeping the wings tucked in close and not using them except in an emergency, to enhance the thrill and danger for the crowd. While wings were more decorative than practical for many people, they still helped with balance, falling and many could still at least glide.

His parents hadn’t noticed that their normal preening supplies had been sabotaged until they’d tried to save themselves and their wings had refused to unfold properly, feathers clumped together.

Falling had taken on a new meaning for Dick, then.

It had made his first flight after fledging a bigger deal in his own mind than it really deserved. It had all gone smoothly, just as Bruce had said it would and had planned for, and Dick’s somewhat excessive preparations had been unnecessary except for his own piece of mind. Taking the first step and relying on his wings—wings that he’d never used before, that had failed his parents—had been like a looming mountain he’d had to climb. It had been after he’d done it, and the rush had hit him, that he’d finally moved past that obstacle and embraced flight again, as that inseparable part of him it had been since he was small and his parents were always there to catch him.

He still kept his wings neat to the point of paranoia, but that was just good sense.

***

The thing was, Dick knew what it was like, being Robin. Not just the official part, with the suit and the patrols, but the rest of it; waiting up for Bruce when you weren’t allowed out with him, the quiet fear that he’d be hurt or worse, the helplessness as he waged a war on the streets alone. All of that was familiar. He understood.

That he understood didn’t make him any less pissed off when Babs called to say that the Robin-in-training had flown the coop and was nowhere to be found in the manor.

“Do you want me to go out and look?” Babs asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dick said, angling his wings to lose some altitude and heading back the way he came. “I know exactly where he’ll be.”

He’d seen Jason pouring over the patrol routes that Bruce had drawn up for Dick to follow while he was gone. It had been a few days ago, now, but that was clearly just Jason lulling him into a false sense of security. He’d also seen him lingering near the the tech, so on a whim he reached up and tapped at his comm, switching it to a channel that shouldn’t be active while Bruce was away. “You know you’re gonna be grounded until you’re thirty for this, right?”

“Uh, wrong number?” Jason replied, and Dick was too busy scanning the skyline for any trace of him to snark back at the cheek. When Dick remained silent, Jason cleared his throat. Dick could hear the wind whistling in the background over the comm. He was definitely outside, and probably up far too high for comfort. “This is not a big deal.”

“Yeah? You gonna tell Bruce that?”

“I don’t think Bruce needs to know about—” Jason’s words cut off suddenly, and Dick heard the sound of metal lurching that sent a surge of adrenaline spiking through him. “—woah. I’m okay.”

“Where. Are. You?” The words were practically hissed through clenched teeth, and Dick swore he was gonna hogtie the kid and hang him from the ceiling for this stunt.

“Uh, the crane near Richardson Park?” Jason’s voice was resigned, which at least gave Dick hope he’d get him home without a fight. “I thought it would be a good vantage point until like…halfway up and by then I was committed. I’ve climbed higher things!”

Dick would just bet. The invincibility of kids, to be so assured that climbing high was the best idea ever and being capable of it, despite lacking both the common sense to realize it was, actually, a terrible idea and wings that were developed enough to handle a fall off said impressive height. Dick had been there. Didn’t make it any more comfortable with the shoe on the other foot. No wonder Bruce said he was going grey early.

The minute he got his eyes on Jason some of the tension eased, which was probably why universe decided to throw a wrench in the works. A heavy gust of wind kicked up just as Jason was shifting his position. His wings were flared out for balance, but that didn’t help when the wind carried a torn newspaper straight at him. Jason swiped at it right as another strong gust had the crane straining and Dick fighting to stay on course.

“Shit!” The moment Jason lost his footing, Dick swore his heart stopped and he was flung back to _that night_.

He was diving on instinct, before Jason had even finished his desperate grasping at the edge of the crane. Even as he kept picturing that night and his heart pounded wildly, his wings folded and he angled himself where he knew Jason would be. Bruce couldn’t have made it in time. A lot of people couldn’t. Dick nearly didn’t, but he managed to get a hold on Jason and rip him out of the sky and into his arms, pulling into a sharp turn before he could send them both crashing into the side of the next building.

He landed the next street over—his worst landing in _years_ —and then basically collapsed on the ground, sprawling out and closing his eyes for a moment and hoping the hammering in his chest, echoing in his ears, was just excessive worry and not heralding a goddamn _heart attack_. “What the fuck.”

Beside him, Jason sat up, eyes wide. “Holy shit. That was so _cool_.”

Dick lifted a hand and ran it across his eyes and wiped at the wetness there. It might have been the wind, or maybe Jason had broken him. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Are you crying?” Jason asked, and he sounded far too incredulous for a kid who had only narrowly escaped the jaws of death.

Dick sighed and sat up, wrapping one arm around his little brother and dragging him close so he could hug him under pretense of giving him a noogie. “Maybe. Not as much as you’re going to when Bruce finds out about this.”

Jason deflated, expression twisting as he tugged himself free and swiped at his hair, flattening the mess Dick had made of it. “Does he have to find out? We’re brothers, right? That means we keep secrets from him.”

Dick laughed, getting to his feet and shaking his legs out. They still felt a little like jelly. It had been a long while since he’d been that terrified. “You can try convincing me on the way home.”

Jason, on the other hand, had bounced back admirably, and grinned. “Are we flying home?”

“That would be way too much like a reward,” Dick replied. “I gotta get the car back, anyway.”

“The car is cool,” Jason said, nodding his approval as if he had any say in the matter. “Dibs on driving!”

“Are you serious?” Dick watched the kid scamper off and looked briefly to the heavens. Then before he forgot, he called back to the manor to let Babs know that Jason was okay.

“It sounds like you had quite the adventure,” Babs said, likely picking up on how Dick’s voice was a little shaky and scratchy still. “The joys of family, am I right?”

“’Joys’, yeah.” The new security system on the Batmobile was up to scratch—Jason hadn’t managed to do more than set it off, and was sitting on a nearby fire escape with his feathers all puffed up in pure indignation while it wailed. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Babs hummed thoughtfully. “Are you telling Bruce?”

“Hell no, are you kidding me? No one needs that.” Dick unlocked the car and rolled his eyes as Jason abandoned his perch and his sulk, diving for the driver’s seat. “I’m not telling Jason though. Kid needs to suffer a little for the years he took off my life.”

He wouldn’t change his family for the world, and after today he wouldn't even change his wings. 

**Author's Note:**

> i can say all i want that this is an experiment with integrating world-building into a story naturally but the fact remains i have written wingfic. 
> 
> you're welcome i guess.


End file.
